Tag Archives: thinking

Weird But Happy Hearts

“Don’t ever be ashamed of loving the strange things that make your weird little heart happy.”

Elizabeth Gilbert

I suppose it goes with the territory of “aging,” but for some reason, this past week, I noticed some strange things that make me happy. One was stumbling onto Elizabeth’s quote and realizing my heart is weird.

One thing that’s making me happy is my email inbox is approaching a record low of under 100 emails. The delete button is showing signs of wear. That also makes me happy.

Late yesterday afternoon I went to Nightengale’s Dairy to pick up milk. I always stop to say “thanks” to the girls and scratch the interested ones behind the ears and under the chin. Seeing them look expectantly at the truck when I drive in makes me happy. I like to think seeing the truck makes them happy.

If I seem a bit obsessed with bovines, I can offer “We’re Already Here” as an explanation that a summer road trip to Michigan includes a four-day commitment to learning how to train and drive a team of oxen. That will make my weird little heart happy.

Speaking of cows, my Amish friend Rachel in Pennsylvania made a sign for us: “Money can’t buy happiness. But it can buy cows. Cows give milk. Ice cream is made from milk. Ice cream makes me happy.” We gifted it to a friend who loves cows even more than I do, but I think I love ice cream more than she does.

And speaking of Amish, I love my occasional visits with my Swartzentruber friends in Corinth. During a recent stop, the boys and I compared suspenders. It started when they found mine with clips fascinating (weird?). It became a bit of a “You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” Their suspenders come from a harness maker, are made from leather, and button inside their trousers. That we can share our differences makes my weird little heart happy.

The oldest boy just finished his first year of school, so he now speaks English well, although his Mom had to help us with the word horse–“paard” in Pennsylvania Dutch. I like to think we are learning to celebrate–to love–our sometimes strange differences.

After all, we don’t all love the same kind of ice cream.

My Brains!

Click to enlarge image.

I suppose this screenshot puts me at some risk of landing in Facebook Jail, but it’s worth it. According to poster Becki Cassidy, it’s a visual representation of her real estate career in “stress squeezer form.”

Sales Agent Course Alumni may recall that I furnished these to students taking the course’s final exam. The idea was that you would have an extra brain to “squeeze” the information from. (Some data suggests that fidgeting (squeezing) improves focus and concentration.)

I really like Becki’s question, “Anyone getting a Wizard of Oz vibe?” I did–on several points. I’m not in Kansas anymore, having left teaching real estate and “repotting” myself. And, of course, “If I only had a brain” is an irresistible hum.

Maybe I’m enjoying this too much because of the fact that the brain is next to a heart, possibly suggesting some important synergy. Brain, heart, and courage do seem to be vital to personal success.

Thanks, Becki. It’s great to know my brains are still out there. Of course, they are now your brains. (Whenever UPS delivered a shipment, I would act excited while taking the box and exclaiming, “My brains came! My brains came!” ) The idea of brains existing outside the body can be fun.

I am humbly trying not to think of myself as a wizard, although we all have some wizard in us. We can “give” others helpful thinking and care and help create courage.

Following the yellow brick road is also not a bad idea. We all would benefit from having and better using our brains, hearts, and courage.

I’m off to see the wizard. Care to come along?

Upcoming Programs and Activities

Substitute Teacher Workshop: Tuesday, April 2, and Tuesday, April 9, at Nokomis Adult Education in Newport. (Must attend two evenings.)

Maine State 4-H Public Speaking Tournament is Saturday, April 6 and I will again be serving as a judge!

Bikes for Books at PCES on Friday, April 12. (Closed event, contact school for more information.)

Suicide Awareness and Prevention: Tuesday, April 16 at Nokomis Adult Education in Newport.

Substitute Teacher Workshop: Tuesday, April 23 at Spruce Mountain Adult Education in Livermore Falls. (All day workshop.)

Crisis Intervention Strategies is the course I will be teaching at Beal University during Mod 5 starting on April 28th.

Coming in May… a “joint venture” Suicide Awareness and Prevention Workshop in the Corinna area!

We’re Already Here

Regular readers are at least familiar with my dear friend and colleague, Jack Falvey. I recently shared some plans with him and was not surprised by his response. Since I’m about to share those plans publicly, I’ll start with part of his response.

“We spend our whole lives trying to make it. For better or worse, we are already here.”

Jack Falvey

Ironically, as I prepared to write this, Seth Godin, in his daily blog post, notes that what we’re doing influences where we are. He asks the rhetorical question, “What happens when we are here and now?”

All these thoughts about where we are and what we’re doing are a good introduction to a few thoughts about where I am, where I’m going, and what I’m doing. I think some of you will be surprised.

This is not going to be a typical summer in our household. For one thing, we won’t be here for three weeks. How this all came about could be an interesting tale that might include karma and coincidence for those who believe in that sort of stuff.

Our extended road trip includes some time in Holmes County, Ohio, often referred to as Amish Country. On the return trip, we’ll also visit Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and connect with some Amish friends there.

However, a primary goal of the trip is Scotts, Michigan, which is the home of Tillers International. Here, I’ll spend four days learning to train and drive oxen.

Tillers Photo of Oxen Team
Doing things the old way… Photo by Tillers International, and no, that’s not me!

As some know, I’m a huge fan of oxen and ox pulls or draws. I can spot a poorly trained team or a teamster that doesn’t understand them. Tiller’s isn’t training for competition–they have a mission that includes preserving our rural heritage and skills. “We attract many people to our classes that are interested in history, the use of hand tools, nostalgia, and a sense of accomplishment of doing something ‘the old-school way.'”

While I’m going to Michigan, in another sense, I’ll be somewhere else. Maybe even a different time when things were more straightforward and we lived closer to the earth.

I’ve joked that this may qualify as one of the more useless things I’ve done in my life. I have no intention of acquiring a team. But as an educator, I suspect I’ll be conscious of how I’m trained and how I, in turn, train and manage these furry fellows.

Jack’s cryptic writing style is reassuring: “I love the oxen adventure. That is you. Oxen are real. You are in a good place.”


Some of my other thoughts on oxen:

Gee Haw! Meet four-year-old Julia and her two large friends. She had the fine distinction of being the youngest and smallest driver in a special class of oxen pulling…

Thanks, Julia! Seven years ago, Julia had the fine distinction of being the youngest and smallest driver in a special class of oxen pulling I watched. It was both entertaining and impressive. 

If Julia can do it, so can I!

Don’t Count on It!

cute diverse children near school bus
Photo by Mary Taylor on Pexels.com

Here’s a short message for kids and parents everywhere. Things don’t always happen the way they’re supposed to. Let me explain.

I recently stopped for a school bus. That’s not big news. It is an example of things happening the way they should. I was facing the bus and could see past it, noticing that the cars behind it had also stopped exactly as they should.

The lights flashed, the stop sign on the bus opened, and the safety arm across the front of the bus swung wide.

Four or five kids got off the bus. They ranged in size from tiny ones with outsized backpacks to some older ones. They came around the front of the bus. So far, so good.

Some ran, some walked in front of the bus and across the highway.

When they started across my lane, I started yelling at them even though there was no way they could hear me. They didn’t stop or even pause to look up and down the road. Fortunately, everything was working the way it should. Well, almost everything. I think the kids were supposed to look both ways.

Safety shouldn’t be delegrated;
it should be shared.

“Mr. Boomsma”

Sometimes, things don’t work the way they should. I can think of several ways that might have been the case. Several days later, there was a headline from a distant state where someone didn’t stop for a school bus, and a child was injured.

If we want kids to feel and be safe, we need to involve them. It wouldn’t be so bad for them to learn they have some responsibility for staying safe. A few seconds long pause to look up and down the road is just plain smart.

At the start of the school year, perhaps parents should meet the bus and ensure the kids do. I’d be happy if the bus driver kept the window open told the kids to stop and look–at least until they got into the habit. It’s been a few years since I’ve attended a school bus safety program, but I’d be thrilled if crossing in front of the bus was part of that curriculum. Safety shouldn’t be delegated; it should be shared.